a song about the Traveling People:


THE TERROR TIME
(Ewan MacColl)

The heather will fade and the bracken will die
Streams will run cold and clear
And the small birds will be going, and it's then you will be knowing
That the terror time is near.

Whaur will ye gan an' whaur will ye bide
Noo that the work's a' done
And the fairmer disnae need ye, and the cooncils winnae heed ye
And the terror time is come?

The woods give no shelter and the trees they are bare
Snow is falling all around
And the children they are crying, for the bed on which they're lying
Is frozen to the ground

When you need the warmth of your own human kind
You move near a town and then
The sight o' you's offending, an' the police they soon are sending
An' you're on the road again.

Whaur will ye gan an' whaur will ye bide
Noo that the work's a' done
And the fairmer disnae need ye, and the cooncils winnae heed ye
And the terror time is come?